


The Dream

by queeries



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst and Feels, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:21:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28617972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queeries/pseuds/queeries
Summary: For several months Mark Blackthorn has awoken to the feeling that he'd forgotten something important.And then he remembers not what, but who.
Relationships: Mark Blackthorn & Kieran
Collections: Various Cassandra Clare Works and Peices





	The Dream

The first thing Mark thought about when he woke up that morning was the dream he’d just had. For the past several months, he’d woken to the groggy feeling mornings always brought, the sun shining too brightly through his curtains, the air blowing too cold through the window he never bothered to close, and a nagging at the back of his mind that he’d just dreamt of something important.  
It wasn’t until that morning that he remembered what.  
A boy. No, not just a boy- a faerie. He stood straight with a formal, almost forced posture, as if a metal rod had been attached to his back. His long, pale fingers balanced on top of a sword’s hilt, a picture of a bow etched into the metal, and the tip pointed towards the ground, his arms stretched out in front of him. He was tall, and lithe, wearing a thin and crisp white long sleeved shirt and coal black breeches. He stood barefoot. However, it was not how he stood nor what he wore that Mark remembered so vividly. It was the way his pale lips had been stretched into a grin, a grin that Mark knew was a challenge even though no words were spoken. It was the way his hair seemed to change colour in the glowing light that surrounded him. It curled around his face, over his pointed ears, changing from dark purplish tints to electric blues, glinting with a silvery hue. And it was the startling colours of his eyes- one a black void and the other a dazzling white- how each held an old sadness and old knowledge, as if he’d lived too long and they’d witnessed too many horrible things.  
His mind hadn’t told him he was forgetting something every morning the whole summer because the boy was a faerie, Mark had realised. He’d finally remembered what he kept forgetting because the boy was a faerie and because the boy was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading- yes, this is short, and it's not really about a relationship as such, but I was proud of it, so. Enjoy!


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